


Cold, Dead Timeline

by katfisching



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fix-It of Sorts, Kidnapping, M/M, The Flash season one storyline but different, a season one adaptation kinda, or at least compliant for the most part
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2019-07-02 10:43:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15794895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katfisching/pseuds/katfisching
Summary: Cisco Ramon ventures into Central City's only gay bar and attracts the attention of a handsome, older man by the name of Leonard Snart. Leonard has something different than a one-night stand in mind, however, and takes Cisco hostage as leverage against the Flash. Cisco learns that the Flash's enemies might not be so clear cut and when former co-worker Hartley Rathaway comes back with evidence against Harrison Wells, Cisco finds it more difficult than it should be to lock Hartley in the pipeline.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of a late season one rewrite with some additions from later seasons. The planned ending is for the Reverse Flash situation to be solved.

 

 

Cisco waited at the crowded bar of Central City’s only gay bar, trying to shake the feeling that he didn’t belong. It wasn’t just that he was bisexual and so got more than a little backlash from gays who felt he was faking, or greedy, or undecided, or naturally prone to cheating. It was also that he wasn’t out to most people. This experience of owning his sexuality was new and he felt like he was trespassing.

Cisco nervously tucked his hair behind his ear. The bar’s décor was attempting cool in a focus-grouped sort of way that ended up at gaudy and unnatural. It didn’t help him want to stay. The place was also crowded and the longer it took for the bartender to take his order, the more tempting it became to leave.

A man moved to stand at the bar next to Cisco, who deliberately ignored the stranger. Cisco tucked his elbows in, trying to be as anonymous and unobtrusive as possible.

Cisco nearly jumped out of his skin when the man spoke to him.

“Can I buy your drink?” the man asked.

Cisco stared, startled, for what must have been an uncomfortable amount of time. The man was easily half a foot taller than Cisco, and older, with very close-cropped salt and pepper hair and a few lines on face. He wasn’t unattractive, Cisco noticed immediately, not his face or his build, which was clearly visible under a fitted black long-sleeve shirt.

The man’s eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement. He offered, “If you’re not interested…”

The man had a slow, drawling way of talking that, combined with how he tilted his head very slightly, created an air of effortless but intentional flirtation.

“I—no, I am--” Cisco struggled to say. “I’m just—I’m not used to this.”

Now the amusement was plain on the man’s face. “Really?”

Cisco wasn’t sure if he should feel laughed at. “Yeah, well I mean--”

“What are you drinking?” the man interrupted, but gently, encouraging.

Cisco suddenly couldn’t remember what he was going to order. He cast around in his mind for anything alcoholic. “Gin and cranberry.” It sounded like a question.

The man got the bartender’s attention, something Cisco hadn’t managed in what had been probably ten minutes. After he ordered two gin and cranberries—insisting on a gin Cisco never heard of but that sounded expensive—the man turned back to Cisco.

Cisco, emboldened by his good luck, spoke up, “You come here often?”

The man laughed; a short, genuine noise. “Not for a while. I’ve been out of Central City for a few years. How about you?”

Cisco’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “I didn’t know this place had been around that long—not that you’re old!” Cisco was quick to add. “It’s just that I’m new to the…scene,” he ended, feeling like the best thing to do was never interact with anyone attractive ever again.

But the man’s amusement was clearly still present. “Maybe you’re just young. I thought for sure the bartender was going to card you.”

“I’m twenty-five,” Cisco said, trying not to sound petulant.

The man gave Cisco a very obvious, appraising once-over before visibly changing tacks and saying, “We’ve all been there. New to the scene, I mean.”

Cisco shifted where he stood, uncomfortable with the attention and the flirty tone, but also with the subject.

The bartender handed them their drinks and Cisco took his gratefully. The gin was stronger than he expected but he managed not to choke.

“This has gotten a bit too real,” he said, hoping to move the conversation on before he had to explain he was closeted.

“I don’t mind real,” the man said. He gestured to a newly abandoned standing table. “Want to move?”

Cisco took another sip of his drink; smaller this time, lesson learned. He’d been approached by men before, but not often by one he wanted to talk to, and of those, none who hadn’t been too forward and scared him off.

“Yeah, alright,” Cisco decided.

The man offered a tight-lipped smile and motioned for Cisco to lead. At the table, there was an awkward moment of silence.

Cisco spoke up, “I’m Cisco, by the way.”

The man laughed again, head down, sheepish. “This is what you meant by too real. I hadn’t even asked your name.”

“Yeah,” Cisco said, eyes on his drink.

“Leonard,” the man supplied. “So, Cisco, what do you do for a living?”

Cisco was caught off-guard even though he knew he shouldn’t have been. This was an absolutely normal topic of conversation. “I, um—I work at STAR Labs.”

Leonard looked impressed. He said, “I thought that was closed after an explosion.”

“Um, well, there’s a—a small research team that was retained after the…malfunction,” Cisco settled on. “We still do research and development.”

“What do you develop?” Leonard asked. “Hopefully not more particle accelerators.”

“You know about the particle accelerator?” Cisco asked, pleasantly surprised.

“Even being out of town, it was hard to avoid hearing about. Harrison Wells had a fondness for keeping all of the West Coast updated on his progress. And I read up on it,” Leonard said, a teasing smile on his lips now. “I have an interest in cutting edge innovations.”

“I didn’t think that you couldn’t—or didn’t--” Cisco tried to backpedal.

“I’m forty-two,” Leonard said. “I’m telling you so you can stop worrying about calling me old.”

“Forty-two’s not old.” It was, however, older than any man Cisco thought he’d be interested in. In real life, anyway; older celebrities didn’t count. Neither did Dr. Wells.

Cisco wasn’t entirely certain how he felt about Wells and he didn’t like thinking about it because he was pretty sure Wells saw him as a son.

“It’s getting there.” Leonard took a sip of his drink and then continued, “But not too old to appreciate impressive technological advances. I’m not much of an engineer personally but I do have an interest in new tech.”

“Would have been more impressive if it worked,” Cisco said.

Leonard shrugged lightly, noncommittally.

“What sort of tech are you interested in?” Cisco asked.

Leonard eyed Cisco for a moment. “Can I be honest with you?”

Cisco nodded, nervous suddenly for no reason.

“I’m in it more for the spectacle than anything.”

Cisco frowned.

“Weapons,” Leonard clarified.

“Oh, we don’t--” Cisco forced a laughed. “We don’t do that at STAR Labs.”

Or, at least, he wasn’t supposed to. And after the reprimand he got from Wells when the two guns that were Cisco’s secret project went missing, he wasn’t going to build any more weapons anytime soon.

“Maybe you should,” Leonard remarked offhandedly. “With a mysterious blur running around, it might be the safest option.”

“How American of you,” Cisco quipped, with only a hint of venom. He had, after all, created a cold gun specifically to stop the Flash. However, he felt protective of Barry when some stranger who knew nothing of metahumans suggested the same thing.

Leonard smiled, wider than before. “Isn’t it? I blame my dad.”

Cisco downed more of his drink only to realize this last gulp drained it. He didn’t remember drinking that much of it. He put his newly empty glass down.

Leonard followed Cisco’s line of sight. He finished his own drink in one swallow. Cisco eyed the exposed column of Leonard’s throat as he tipped his head back.

Leonard put his glass down. “Want another?”

Cisco hesitated. He didn’t have a high tolerance for alcohol and he knew he’d be feeling the first drink any moment now. But he was having a good time.

“Sure,” he answered, giving in to the urge to be reckless.

Cisco watched Leonard as he went back up to the bar. Sitting alone caused the reality of what he was doing to creep in. The music and the noise of the other patrons came back into focus, far too loud. Cisco tapped his fingertips restlessly against the tabletop. He was in over his head. He glanced at the door, debating just vanishing.

He wasn’t against one-night stands; he’d had some before, in fact. But not with a man, and definitely not with someone this much older. But why not, he asked himself. This could be one of those improbable romance novel scenarios that ends in fantastic one-night stand sex he would compare every future encounter to.

Leonard returned to the table and set Cisco’s drink in front of him. Cisco glanced down at the glass, only now the implications of an open drink from a stranger occurring to him.

Leonard watched him, took a long sip of his own drink, then placed it purposefully in front of Cisco and slid Cisco’s drink to himself.

“I didn’t--” Cisco found himself trying to apologize.

“I’ll drink both if you want,” Leonard offered with a small, conspiratorial smile.

Cisco laughed, a little too breathless for his liking, completely taken by the look Leonard had given him. He wished he could come across more at ease.

He said, “Don’t show off now.”

Leonard’s brow knit, not out of anger but instead from focus, his head tilted. “Not much of a drinker?”

“Family disappointment.”

Leonard laughed again. He raised his glass in a mock toast. “Cheers.”

Cisco found that even though he still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the intensity of attention Leonard showed him, part of him liked being the sole point of focus of an attractive, commanding, older man. It felt…validating. Cisco thought again about how he didn’t have someone to brag to.  

Cisco took a sip of his drink. “What do you do for work?”

Leonard eyed him, expression back to amused. “Freelance acquisitions, mostly. Some security work. I also have a passionate and sometimes lucrative hobby in mechanics.”

Cisco nodded, not going to admit how vague he found the answer. “Ok.” He downed more of his drink.

“So how does this work?”

“What work?” Cisco asked. His fingers went numb against his glass. He knew this was what they were leading up to but he still almost hadn’t expected to get there.

Leonard’s expression relaxed slightly and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “That is the gentlest rejection I’ve ever gotten.”

“No, I’m not--” Cisco insisted, panicking a bit at the thought of Leonard leaving. “I just didn’t want to be presumptuous.”

Leonard gave another tight-lipped smile. He answered in his slow, drawling tone, voice pitched low in a way that made it even more nakedly seductive. “ _Alright_ , then.”

Cisco swallowed, shifting where he stood.

“My place?” Leonard asked.

Cisco thought of his own small apartment, clothes definitely strewn all over. He wasn’t entirely certain of the last time he changed his bedsheets. His bathroom was not anything he’d want other people to see.

“Yes,” he agreed, too eagerly.

Leonard chuckled and raised his glass to his lips again.

Cisco looked at how much of his drink he had left and wondered how much it cost, if would be rude to abandon it. The first one was creeping up on him and he was feeling a bit giddy but also a bit unsteady.

“In a rush?” Leonard asked.

Cisco took in a deep breath. “Have you seen you? Because, yeah.” The alcohol was affecting him more than he realized and he wanted to kick himself.

Leonard’s gaze dropped and he looked sincerely flattered.

“Not so bad yourself,” he responded. He finished the last of his drink.

Then Leonard reached over to put his hand over Cisco’s glass, fingertips barely grazing Cisco’s hand. Cisco’s heart caught painfully at the surprise contact.

“Do you mind?” Leonard asked.

Cisco steadied himself. He met Leonard’s eyes. “Take whatever you want.”

Cisco unwrapped his fingers from the glass and drew his hand away.

Leonard looked caught off-guard but quickly switched to an expression that said he took Cisco’s response as a challenge. “I’ll remind you that you said that.”

He finished Cisco’s drink faster than anyone had any right to and Cisco let out a forceful breath.

Leonard raised an eyebrow.

“I’m impressed,” Cisco admitted.

“That’s all it took for you?” Leonard grinned, or as close as someone with such understated facial expressions could get. “I can do much better than that.”

Cisco could have fallen over from all the blood that suddenly wasn’t in his feet.

Leonard inclined his head to the door. “I already closed the tab. Want to head out?”

All Cisco could do was nod.

Leonard led the way out to the parking lot, to a motorcycle that sparked a not-so-small pang of jealousy in Cisco. He thought of the meager paycheck he earned from STAR Labs. While many of the patents and innovations were worth millions, they were all tied up with STAR Labs and Wells. That, and after the particle accelerator explosion, there were liabilities to handle and no one was eager to accept new inventions from the lab that was deemed a hazard site.

Leonard offered the helmet to Cisco, making Cisco pause, surprised.

“Thank you,” he said.

Leonard laughed good-naturedly as he straddled the bike.

The commitment Cisco was making suddenly hit him in a way that leaving the bar hadn’t caused.

He took out his phone. “One sec,” he managed.

Leonard started the motorcycle. “No rush.” And it sounded like he meant it.

Cisco decided to text Caitlin. As well as a friend and a coworker, Caitlin was the most open-minded person he knew. She wouldn’t balk at the information that Cisco went home with another man.

Cisco drafted: **Hey. Decided to have a fling. If it goes really badly (lmao) I was at**

He stopped. He couldn’t get himself to type it.

Leonard glanced over at Cisco. “It’s Snart.”

Cisco nearly jumped. He had been too involved with his own thoughts. “What?”

“My last name. S-N-A-R-T. If you wanted to tell someone.”

Cisco bit down on his bottom lip. He wanted to. Not just the name. But he couldn’t commit to it. He shoved the phone back in his pocket.

“Too late. Already sent,” Cisco lied in a voice as close to casual as he could get it.

Leonard grinned. “Hop on.”

Cisco hesitated for only a half second before climbing onto the bike behind Leonard. Even coming in contact with only Leonard’s back and the back of his thighs, Cisco could tell the other man was enticingly solid, a promise of how strong he was.

“I’ve never been on a motorcycle before,” Cisco said as he put on the helmet.

“Make sure to hold on,” Leonard advised with obvious enthusiasm.  

Cisco wrapped his arms around Leonard’s middle and they took off.

Cisco watched the dark city go by, electric lights sweeping over the both of them, illuminating Leonard over and over. Being on a motorcycle was surprisingly invigorating, and the machine felt far more sturdy than he’d expected.

They left the business part of Central City to enter a suburb. Or rather, the richest suburb Cisco had ever seen. The houses were easily acres apart, with lawns large enough to hold multiple fully-grown trees and curving driveways leading to manors that could only be glimpsed from the street.

Leonard turned into one gravel driveway and as they drove up, Cisco took out his phone again. Before he lost his nerve, he added to his text, typing as well as he could with one hand and the bike shaking from the uneven ground.

He added:  **Rhodes. Went home with a guy named Leonard Snart. No, you won’t get details on Monday.**

He hit send. He didn’t expect Caitlin to text back. She was likely already asleep, even on Friday night. Even though she was only thirty, she never seemed to have a sense of adventure. Caitlin once regaled Cisco over lunch all about the thrill of buying a new pajama set. It was satin. Not just satin trim, but completely satin, she reiterated, clearly waiting for Cisco to understand why she was excited.

Cisco slept in old graphic t-shirts he’d worn into oblivion and sweatpants he had stolen from some family member probably seven years ago. 

Leonard parked the motorcycle and they dismounted. Cisco took the helmet off, sincerely hoping his hair wasn’t ruined.

“Come on,” Leonard said, setting the helmet Cisco returned to him on the seat of the bike. Leonard led the way up onto the wrap-around porch.

Cisco’s sense of excitement returned. Someone knew where he was, and maybe better yet, knew he was queer. He felt free to focus on what promised to be a phenomenal night.

A broad grin lit up his face as he joined Leonard on the porch. He let himself imagine what Leonard looked like under his fitted black clothes. Probably at least a little bit muscular; he wasn’t nearly as soft as Cisco himself was. Not that Cisco minded how he looked. He liked it, even. He was well aware soft stomachs were not the turn-off underwear commercials tried to tell men they were.

Leonard put the keys in the door then paused. He looked Cisco over, considering something. He pinned Cisco against the siding and their lips met before Cisco realized what was happening. But, _god_ , if he wasn’t into it.

He kissed back just as eagerly, grabbing handfuls of the front of Leonard’s shirt to pull his closer. Leonard responded with a fist in Cisco’s hair, forcing his head back.

Cisco gasped, definitely not expecting that level of enthusiasm. Leonard used that moment to pull away completely, leaving Cisco dizzy.

Leonard opened the front door and stepped back, ushering Cisco through. “Come in.”

Cisco stared at Leonard, stunned, but even more willing than before, if the kiss was an indication of the quality of things to follow

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

 

 

Cisco entered the house to come instantly face to face with a gun. He recognized it immediately. His heat gun, stolen from STAR Labs along with the cold gun meant to combat the Flash. It had the essence of a flamethrower, with an intricate metal barrel and red canister on the side. The heat gun was wielded by a man larger than Leonard, head shaved nearly bald, who wore a white shirt and suspendered firefighter uniform pants.

“Took you long enough,” the man growled out.

“What was I supposed to do, Mick?” Leonard asked as he locked the door behind them. “Hit the kid over the head and carry him to the bike?”

“Would have been faster,” Mick grumbled.

Leonard turned his attention back to Cisco. He gestured to a heavy wooden chair pulled away from the equally ornate dining room table in the next room. On the table sat the cold gun—no canisters, just a solid, heavy piece of metal, almost all of it the barrel—and a roll of duct tape.

“Have a seat.”

Cisco internally berated himself as he sat down. He said, “I should have known. I am not that lucky.” He looked pointedly at Leonard.

“Believe me, Cisco, any other day and you could have been,” Leonard said as he reached for the duct tape. “Phone on the table.”

Cisco complied. He let out a shuddering breath, trying not to panic as he was bound wrists and ankles to the chair, the heat gun aimed at him from the foyer. Leonard stood back up and Cisco twisted his wrists against the tape. It was futile but he had done it more out of reflex than anything.

“Test it all you like,” Leonard said, unbothered.

Cisco glared.

Mick lowered the gun. “So, I can do my thing now?”

Leonard rolled his eyes and leaned the side of his hip against the dining room table, still facing Cisco. “Yes, Mick, you can do your thing.”

“Finally.”

“Don’t get distracted,” Leonard chided.

Mick unlocked the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mick said over his shoulder as he walked out, heat gun firmly in hand.

Leonard crossed his arms over his chest and turned his head towards the door, frowning.

“What is he going to do?” Cisco demanded.

Leonard took a moment to answer. “Mick is going to get the Flash’s attention.”

Cisco frantically struggled against the duct tape again. “Why? For what?”

Leonard turned his eyes to Cisco. “I need the Flash to do something for me.”

“Why would he?”

Leonard’s face was a mix of confusion and amusement. “I have you.”

“He doesn’t know me,” Cisco lied.

Leonard studied Cisco for a long moment. “Do you know how I got these guns?” He shifted to lean differently against the table, crossing one leg over the other. “I had an inside man, a janitor. I didn’t know STAR Lab’s security, so I figured I’d have someone take some pictures of the interior of the building for me. He was easy enough to pay off for that, so I thought why not ask for another favor? I asked him to carry the guns out.”

Cisco was aware of those events, at least the fact that a janitor hadn’t shown up for work the same day Cisco noticed the guns were missing and the cameras had been tampered with.

“And then you killed him,” Cisco accused.

“Maybe I did. I don’t want anyone knowing I have the guns. Can’t have that liability. So maybe he died. Or maybe I paid him off to leave the city, with the additional threat that if he ever came back, then I would kill him. Who knows.”

Cisco didn’t respond.

Leonard continued. “Did you make these guns?”

“Never seen them before. There were a lot of engineers at STAR Labs.”

“These are new, my janitor friend told me. And you so helpfully informed me there is only a small team left at the lab. Narrows down the options.”

“A small team and Dr. Wells. He could have made those.” Cisco hoped he wasn’t endangering Dr. Wells, but at the moment it seemed better for himself to not claim responsibility for the weapons.

“Pity. I was ready to be impressed by you.”

Cisco was annoyed to realize that the Leonard at the bar hadn’t been an act. This Leonard spoke just as he did when picking up Cisco; too purposefully, slowly, with an emphasized intention behind his words that made them seductive.

Leonard continued, “It’s a cold gun, to put it crudely. I chose this gun because I needed something to take on the Flash. I looked at the pictures of STAR Labs and got to thinking—what if that was the original purpose of the cold gun?”

“You think STAR Labs is trying to take down the Flash?” Cisco hoped he sounded incredulous enough.

“Or is in contact with him. STAR Labs has a very fancy treadmill, a red suit, a cold gun. I was told the suits were a prototype firefighter uniform, but I happened to notice a distinct similarity to the Flash’s outfit. What people have seen of it, anyway.”

“If anyone at STAR Labs was in contact with the Flash, why would they need the gun?”

“A fail-safe, I’d assume. That’s what I would do, if I was working with someone with abilities like his.”

“If anyone is working with the Flash, or is in contact with him, I don’t know anything about it.” Cisco was proud of how strong he managed to get his voice when he said that.

“Even so,” Leonard said, “The Flash is not the type to leave an innocent person held hostage.”

“What are you asking him for?”

“I need him to locate someone for me.”

Cisco frowned. “Why the Flash?”

“I want it done quickly,” Leonard said with an indulgent smile.

Leonard’s good-naturedness about the whole thing made Cisco deeply uncomfortable. He ignored the joke and asked, “And what are you going to do to that person when the Flash finds them?”

Leonard shrugged. Then he watched Cisco for a long moment, thinking.

He said, “You want to know the truth, Cisco?”

Cisco’s heart raced. As much as he hadn’t liked the flippancy, this honesty was worse.

“I’m going to kill him,” Leonard said. He picked the cold gun and Cisco’s phone off the table and walked out of the room.

 

Cisco was left alone for an amount of time he had no way of keeping track of. After several attempts to get out of his restraints, Cisco had to resign himself to the fact that he wasn’t going anywhere. Chewing through the duct tape got him nothing, and the way his ankles were held to the chair legs made it impossible for him to get enough leverage to knock the chair over. Besides, with how sturdy the chair was, Cisco doubted any piece of it would have broken even if he had managed to tip over.

Suddenly, the front door crashed open, making Cisco jump.

Mick staggered in, smelling of heavily of smoke and with a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

“You stayed to watch, didn’t you?” accused Leonard’s voice from the other room.

“Course I did,” Mick said, unapologetic. “Nobody called, did they?”

“No,” Leonard said, appearing in the foyer to meet Mick, cold gun still in hand.

“Then I didn’t miss anything,” Mick said.

“Watch what?” Cisco demanded. He vividly imagined STAR Labs up in flames.

“How much time do you think we have before a phone call?” Mick asked with a roguish tone Cisco couldn’t quite place.

Leonard let out a short, cold, “Mick.” It sounded like chastisement.

“Why can’t this one be fun, like all the other jobs?” Mick complained.

“You’ve had your fun.”

Mick stepped closer to Leonard, meeting the other man’s eyes, something threatening in his expression. But then he just walked past Leonard and out of sight. Leonard let out a breath and walked into the dining room.

He saw Cisco’s look and explained, “Fire does things to Mick. He’ll calm down.”

“I didn’t—I wasn’t--” Cisco tried to say.

A cellphone rang and Cisco started violently, again. Leonard reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. He looked at it, considering.

He aimed the cold gun at Cisco’s knee.

“No! _Please_ —no,” Cisco begged. “Whatever you’re going to do, you don’t have--”

Leonard pressed the barrel of the gun hard against Cisco’s knee, causing Cisco’s panic to choke him silent.

Leonard said, “I am only going to shoot you if you say something I don’t want you to.”

“How will I know--?”

“You’re not stupid, kid.”

Leonard looked at the still ringing phone.

“Aren’t you going to--?” Cisco began to ask but stopped when the phone did.

“I like to make them work for it,” Leonard replied, in his same aloof tone.

After a few moments, the phone lit up again, generic ring tone going off once more. Leonard answered it three rings in, putting it on speaker.

He met Cisco’s eyes as he spoke. “There’s only one person I want to be talking to and for the sake of Cisco here, you better be that person.”

Barry’s familiar Flash voice—distorted by his powers—answered and Cisco had to bite the inside of his cheek hard to stem the emotions that flooded him. Fear and desperation and embarrassment. Cisco didn’t know if Barry knew yet that he had walked right into this situation, but even still, he felt ashamed at himself for it.

“I want to talk to Cisco,” Barry said.

“I figured,” Leonard said, unbothered. He tilted the phone towards Cisco and prompted, “Go on, tell the Flash you’re fine.” It sounded mocking.

Cisco’s chest tightened painfully and he couldn’t breathe. “Don’t worry about me,” he managed finally, his voice sounding strangled. “Everything will be fine.”

Cisco hoped desperately that didn’t have too much camaraderie, potentially tipping Leonard off that Barry knew him.

“Hear that, Flash?” Leonard asked, and his drawl held the same effortless flirtation it did when he spoke to Cisco. “Everything will be fine.”

“Let Cisco go.”

“You're going to do something for me,” Leonard said. “You're going to find someone.”

Silence on the other end. Then, “Who?”

“Lewis Snart.”

Cisco shifted where he was bound. Leonard’s eyes idly drifted back to him, expressionless, but making a threat nevertheless. Cisco said nothing.

“Why can’t you find Lewis Snart yourself?” Barry asked.

Cisco wondered if Barry was fishing for information or if someone was trying to trace the phone call, if something like that could be done from STAR Labs.

Leonard must have had a similar thought because he said, “You have seventeen hours. When you’ve located Lewis Snart, bring him to me and I’ll release Cisco. Call me when you’ve found him.”

Leonard hung up and Cisco’s heart nearly stopped.

“You want the Flash to bring—who is that? Your brother? To you?” Cisco asked against his better judgement, incredulous.

Leonard pocketed the phone and tilted his head, his focus fully on Cisco. “Keep in mind the gun hasn’t moved.”

Cisco glanced down at the cold gun against his knee. His terror was subsiding, or maybe he had grown numb to it. He said, “It won’t work. The Flash won’t just hand some guy over to you. Is this a prison break or something?”

Leonard watched Cisco for a moment longer before lowering the gun slowly. “It’s my father, not my brother. If he was just in prison, I wouldn’t need the Flash. He _was_ in prison, but now there’s no trace of him. No paperwork. No one’s seen him. I think he made a deal with some department or other. Sold people out and was moved somewhere hidden.”

“He can’t—the Flash can’t—why would he have access to that kind of information?”

“He doesn’t need to have access. He just needs to get access.”

“How? That’s not--”

“You think the Flash hasn’t broken the law? With powers like his? Hasn’t gone into places he wasn’t supposed to?”

Cisco started to talk but stopped short. Of course Barry had broken into places before. Most frequently, he used his powers to look at files at the police station. But that was all justified. Cisco was certain this—finding a man potentially under government protection and kidnapping him—was beyond what Barry would do, even for a good reason.

No, Cisco was pretty sure Barry’s course of action, guided by Caitlin and Dr. Wells, would be to find and rescue him, with Lewis Snart left well enough where he was. So Cisco would wait, and try not to do anything that would get him blasted with the cold gun, and maybe, hopefully, find a way to send a signal to the others about where he was. He already sent Caitlin that text. With Rhodes as a starting point and the text as a time stamp, Cisco figured the team could track Leonard’s motorcycle through traffic cameras at least most of the way to the house. Or they could just track the metadata from Cisco’s phone. Even if Leonard had the phone off now, his text had been sent from the driveway. And Cisco didn’t even think Leonard knew that. Cisco said he’d sent the text at Rhodes.

Tentatively, Cisco let a small amount of optimism settle in his chest.

Even more than that, he realized, Leonard didn’t know the text—with his name—went to someone who was probably at that moment sitting right next to the Flash.

Cisco’s optimism was replaced by sickening dread as a different realization hit him. Cisco’s face must have let on because Leonard frowned.

“You gave me your real name,” Cisco said, voice barely above a breath.

“I did,” Leonard said, in a tone that said he had not followed Cisco’s change of topic.

Cisco’s eyes stung and his breathing rattled. Any kidnapper who let their hostage know their name and their face was not planning to let that hostage go.

Now Leonard had caught on. “And what about it? To arrest me, the police would have to find me. And if they managed, I’d have a lot worse than your kidnapping charge to worry about.”

“There’s the Flash out there now, helping the police,” Cisco said. “You think you can hide from him forever?”

“I don’t think you realize how sinister that makes the Flash sound,” Leonard quipped dryly. “But, yes. I’ve kept away from him thus far and I know I can stay that way, no matter what information you have.”

Cisco’s mouth was dry and he had long since sobered up. He shook his head, vision blurring.

Leonard hit the cold gun against the edge of the table, just forceful enough to startle Cisco and force his eyes to Leonard.

“I want Lewis Snart out of wherever he is so I can kill him, not free him. I don’t plan to kill you.”

Cisco let out a small, breathy, disbelieving laugh. “I can’t trust that.”

Leonard studied Cisco’s face for a long moment. He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, conceding that point.

“You’d have a lot better time here if you did,” Leonard said.

“Then make me,” Cisco said, feeling sick.

It took a second, but Leonard smiled, eyes on the floor.

He turned back to Cisco. “If you can’t trust me, trust the Flash. The rest of the city does.”

Leonard tapped the gun against the table again, much gentler this time. A note of finality before he left the room.

 

 


	3. Chapter Three

 

 

 

Cisco did trust Barry. Barry was a good hero, especially for being so new at it. He was selfless, maybe too much so. Not only did Barry try to save everyone—he was in a rush to do it. Barry had a ‘run into danger and figure things out in the moment’ mentality, but it worked, and so Cisco was going to sit and wait and let the person with the superpowers fight the guy with the gun. It seemed like the reasonable option.  

Cisco imagined, over and over, walking away from Leonard at Rhodes. He seethed at the part of him that had found Leonard so attractive—and, even worse, still did. Cisco hated that he had felt so validated by the attention, the same way he glowed when Dr. Wells was proud of him.

Leonard marched back into the dining room, pulling Cisco from his thoughts. He wore a parka with a fur-lined hood and had the cold gun slung over his back. Despite it being November, the weather wasn’t bad enough for the coat. Leonard must have been anticipating using the gun.  

Mick trailed a few steps behind, glowering.

“Got a call,” Leonard tossed out at Cisco as he grabbed a small black bag from a pile of things strewn in the corner of the room. “Mick will watch you until I get back.”

“A call?” Cisco asked. “That’s not—how long has it been?”

Cisco couldn’t gauge the time by how tired he was because the adrenaline had messed that up, but he was barely hungry and would have rated his need to pee at only like a six out of ten. Plus, perhaps most tellingly, it was still dark out.

But Leonard didn’t answer and was out the front door. A moment later, Cisco heard the motorcycle rev to life.

Mick dropped heavily into a chair one down from Cisco on the other side of the table. He put his feet up, gigantic boots thudding on the dark wood tabletop. Mick had the table’s twelve chairs to choose from but he decided to be so near. Cisco tried not to feel intimidated, even though that had most likely been Mick’s intention.

Cisco gnawed at the inside of his cheek. There was no way Barry actually had Lewis Snart. Barry wouldn’t do that--hand a person over to someone who clearly didn’t have good intentions. However, if Barry wanted Leonard to believe his demands were met, he should have waited a little longer before calling back. Cisco was surprised Leonard wasn’t suspicious.

Mick took out a lighter, flicked it open, and lit it. He stared at the flame with an expression Cisco could only call longing. That’s all he did. Just stared. Cisco’s mind conjured up the image of the heat gun, and all the fire it could produce.

Cisco was pretty certain he knew what Barry was doing. Barry was luring Leonard out in order to capture him and force him to give up Cisco’s location. And Cisco wasn’t entirely confident that would be an effective plan. Not only did Leonard not seem like the type to give up information, but also being held by the Flash didn’t put Leonard at the disadvantage Barry probably thought it did. There was still Mick.

Cisco imagined being stuck in the house alone with an increasingly agitated Mick while Leonard was in the pipeline being futilely interrogated by Barry.

Waiting for a rescue was suddenly not quite so easy, not that it had been a particularly relaxing idea before now. Cisco stared at Mick and the lighter and decided he needed to force Barry to change tactics.

“Do you believe the Flash found Lewis Snart?” Cisco asked.

Mick didn’t answer.

“The call came a bit fast,” Cisco tried again.

Mick closed the lighter with another flick. “Being fast is his whole thing.”

“This is a trap,” Cisco said, having decided bluntness was necessary.

“Snart’s too good for that,” Mick said.

“He’s doing all this to kill his father,” Cisco pointed out.

Mick opened the lighter and lit it again, the small metallic noises enough to grate on Cisco. 

“Sometimes you got to kill your own father,” Mick said, flatly, with nothing but acceptance of the fact.

Cisco pulled against the duct tape out of frustration. “Fine, but don’t you think that might make Leonard a little reckless? If this is so personal?”

Mick stared, entranced, at the lighter flame. He didn’t take his eyes off it as he responded, “Snart knows what he’s doing. He’s the plan guy.”

“Call Leonard and tell him it’s a trap,” Cisco demanded.

“Why?” Mick asked.

“Why what? Why should you call?” Cisco asked, feeling like the reasoning should have been obvious.

“No,” Mick said. “Why do you want me to call?”

“If he doesn’t come back, what are you going to do?”

Mick made a noncommittal grunt.

“To _me,_ ” Cisco clarified. “You’re going to kill me.”

Mick visibly thought it over. “Not sure,” he said. “Might need leverage.”

Cisco went cold. “Don’t you care that Leonard might be taken by the Flash?”

Mick snapped the lighter shut and leaned an arm on the table to loom closer. He leveled Cisco with a fed-up expression. “You keep asking questions, I’ll kill you right now. I don’t care what Snart will say.”

If Mick wasn’t going to call for Leonard’s sake, then Cisco had to do something to get Leonard back before Barry caught him.

Cisco spoke up again. “Call Leonard and tell him it’s a trap. Get him back here. I can find Lewis Snart.”

Mick watched him for a long moment. Cisco refused to back down even though his heart was pounding hard enough to hurt.

“How?” Mick demanded.

“I’m pretty good with computers,” Cisco said. Realizing Mick wasn’t following, he clarified, “Hacking.”

“You want me to give you a computer?” Mick’s expression that made it very clear he was laughing at the idea.

“You can watch over my shoulder the whole time.” Cisco tried his best to sound assuring. “By the looks of the guns you two have, I’m sure you can break into wherever Lewis Snart is yourselves. No need to get the Flash involved at all.”

Mick looked unimpressed. “We already got the Flash involved. Might as well let him do the work.”

“But he’s not going to. He’s going to find a way to be a hero.”

Mick’s feet slammed hard against the wood floor and he stood and left the room. There were the familiar sounds of someone rummaging in a kitchen.

“You know he will!” Cisco shouted.

The rummaging stopped. Footsteps, but headed farther away in the house.

Cisco felt lightheaded. It took him a full minute to realize he was panicking. An unknowable amount of time taped to the chair as Barry pursued the wrong lead stretched out in front of him.

Mick lumbered back into the room, holding a beer bottle and an open laptop. He placed the laptop on the table.

Cisco’s eyes caught on what was already up on the screen; text on a white background.

_As the twin suns of Dartayus set on the horizon, her heaving bosom undulated like the soothing waves of the bay. Buck swept her into his musky embrace._

“I was working on something,” Mick said, defensive, as he swiftly closed out of the window.

He grabbed the back of Cisco’s neck roughly and leaned in close, breath already smelling like beer.

“You try anything weird, bring up anything I don’t recognize, make one wrong key stroke,” he growled. “I set you on fire.”

Cisco nodded meekly.

Mick straightened back up. He gestured to the laptop with the beer bottle. “Get on it.”

“I--” Cisco tugged against the duct tape keeping his wrists down.

“Ah,” Mick said. He pulled out a pocket knife.

Cisco tensed as Mick cut him loose, not sure what he was expecting but anticipating it anyway. But all Mick did was slice open the tape and then sit back down on the same chair he’d occupied earlier. Cisco worked his arms free, eyeing Mick the whole time. Cisco rolled his wrists and massaged at the sore spots.

This was it. Mick actually trusted him to track down Lewis Snart. Cisco scoured his frantic brain for a place to start. 

Cisco cleared his throat. “You need to call Leonard and tell him not to meet with the Flash.”

Mick took a long swallow of beer. He took out his phone, navigated the screen for a moment, and then held the phone to his ear. He took another swig of beer while he waited.

“Yeah,” Mick said abruptly. “Your boy says you’re walking into a trap.” He hung up.

Cisco was about to say something but Mick began typing on the phone.

When he finished, Mick said, “There. Texted, too. Happy?”

Cisco shut his eyes hard. “Sure.”

Naturally, Mick would throw him under the bus. In case anything went wrong by this change of plans, it was now all on Cisco. And maybe it should have been. After all, he was the one making a gamble.

Cisco forced that aside and made himself begin his search. Now that a computer was in front of him, he’d forgotten anything he’d ever learned about finding information. After a lot more concentration than hacking had ever taken, he decided local police was as good a place as any to start—and easier to hack into than anything higher up. He didn’t actually need to search; just make enough of a visible effort to be convincing.

Cisco glanced at the laptop clock. 12:27 am. Seeing the time only made it feel more unreal. That time couldn’t have actually passed; none of this could have actually happened.

“I can see the screen in the window behind you,” Mick said.

“Ok,” Cisco said, jarred slightly from the sense of incongruity.

 Cisco started his hunt, going far, far slower than he would have normally. His aim was to get just far enough that if Leonard or Mick knew anything about getting this kind of information, his search would look legitimate.

Forty-five minutes later, Mick left the dining room and starting rustling around the kitchen again.  

“Has he gotten back to you at all?” Cisco called at Mick. He gnawed at the inside of his cheek, debating the risk of contacting STAR Labs now that Mick had stepped away.

The noise stopped for a half a second before continuing.

“The Flash has him,” Cisco said, a pit growing in his stomach.

Cisco hadn’t considered this option; that he would be finding Lewis Snart while Leonard was held at STAR Labs.

Mick appeared in the foyer archway with another beer in hand. Cisco yanked his hands back from the keyboard and then berated himself for the show of guilt.

The front door slammed open and Leonard walked in. He looked tense and worn out, but not injured. He glanced into the dining room. It took a second, but his scowl turned into rage. He stormed into the room, cold gun trained on Cisco.

“You gave him a computer?” Leonard shouted at Mick, who had followed him into the room just as fast.

“Wait, _wait!_ ” Cisco begged, hands raised, flinching from the gun despite still being attached by the ankles to the chair.

Mick got close to Leonard, but not in between the gun and Cisco. “Snart, listen to me. I’ve been watching him. He’s helping us.”

Leonard’s icy glare didn’t leave Mick, and the gun didn’t leave Cisco.

“How,” Leonard demanded.

“He says he can find your dad.”

Cisco was terrified to breathe.

A cellphone went off and Cisco bit back a startled scream.

Leonard answered his phone with his free hand, not changing the gun’s aim as he spoke. “You lied to me.”

He listened to the other line for a moment and then cut in, coldly, nearly deadpan. “You didn’t do what I asked and you know who has to pay for that.”

Leonard’s eyes slid to Cisco.

“No—PLEASE!” Cisco shouted, body curled in tightly and tears welling in his eyes.

Barry’s indistinct yelling could be heard through the phone.

The cold gun went off. The sound of it—crackling, materializing ice—was much louder than it had ever been when Cisco tested it in STAR Labs.

Leonard ended the call. He looked at Cisco.

Cisco’s mind was slow to register he hadn’t died. He stared in disbelief, mouth hung open, at Leonard. Cisco belatedly noticed the frozen, shattered floorboards between his chair and the window. The cold was so close and he realized he was shivering.

“Were you making progress?” Leonard asked.

“What?” Cisco asked, not even entirely sure Leonard had spoken. He rubbed at the arm that had been closest to the blast, nearly numb even through layers of clothing. The skin prickled as he worked warmth back into it.

Leonard set the gun on the table. “With finding Lewis Snart? Did you get anywhere?”

“Did the Flash try and arrest you?” Mick asked.

“Arrest would be too formal of a word,” Leonard said. “I knew it was a possibility, so I was prepared. But I couldn’t come straight back to the house. I had to make sure he wasn’t following.”

“I can’t believe the kid was right,” Mick grumbled.

“If you didn’t believe it, why did you warn me?” Leonard asked.

“He whined a lot,” Mick replied. “And you and I look out for each other. It’s what we do.”

Leonard watched him for a long moment, something heavy in the air. Then Leonard turned back to Cisco and asked again, “Were you making progress?”

“It’s more like a process of elimination,” Cisco explained.

“How far have you gotten?”

Cisco’s mouth went even dryer. “I started with local police. He’s—” Cisco scrambled to not sound like he’d dragged the search out. “They don’t have him. But there are plenty of other departments.” He wasn’t going to lie and say he checked and couldn’t find Lewis Snart anywhere. Cisco knew he had to remain useful, especially now that he lost his value as a hostage after being proven right that the Flash wasn’t going to play by the rules to keep him alive.  

Leonard nodded thoughtfully. He grabbed the back of the chair and spun Cisco away from the table before smoothly dropping to kneel between Cisco’s legs.

Cisco recoiled as far as he could, just from surprise.

Leonard took out a pocket knife. He looked up from his spot between Cisco’s knees.

Leonard laid the knife against the inside of Cisco’s thigh. “You get any ideas--”

Cisco nodded frantically without even knowing what Leonard meant. “Yeah—no, of course--”

Leonard cut the tape at Cisco’s ankles, then hesitated for a nearly imperceptible second before standing and pocketing the knife.

“Thank you,” Cisco said. _Thanks, person who kidnapped me, for not keeping me tied to a chair,_ a sarcastic voice in Cisco’s head mocked his knee-jerk gratitude.

“You need anything?” Leonard asked.

“I’m—I think—no.” Cisco’s mind reeled. He certainly wasn’t going to ask for something.

“Is my turn babysitting over?” Mick asked.

Leo gave him an exasperated look. “Yes, Mick. You’re free.”

Mick left the room, saying, “Tell me when I can have my computer back. I was working on something.”

When Mick was gone, Leonard leaned casually against the table edge. He tapped the top of the laptop screen. “You’re smart, kid.”

“You, too,” Cisco said.

“Debatable,” Leonard countered. “You want in big? I’ll pay you for this--” He tapped the computer again. “—now, and if you want to do it again, let me know.”

“You’ll pay me for this?” Cisco repeated, disbelieving.

“If you find him. And in the future, a guy with your skills might come in handy. We should keep in touch.”

Cisco moved the chair so he could go back to the keyboard, just for something to do. He didn’t know how to turn down Leonard’s offer without potentially offending the man who was very near a weapon; the cold gun still sat on the table.

“Well, I don’t--” He stopped both talking and typing. “That’s very illegal.”

It took a beat, but Leonard laughed. “Where are you getting information from right now? Is that legal? Was it legal all the times you’ve done it before? I assume this isn’t your first try.”

Cisco couldn’t respond.

“All those other times didn’t count? You were doing it for all the right reasons?”

Cisco was more than aware that not all of his hacking had been done in the service of the Flash.

Leonard crossed his arms. “You like hacking, I assume. That’s why you’ve done it enough to get good at it. I’m a thief because I like it. And I’m very good at it. It’s the only thing I’m good at.”

Cisco knew he was damning himself with his answer, but nevertheless he said, “That doesn’t mean you have to do it.”

“I had a criminal record before I had a driver’s license. It’s difficult to go anywhere from there. You know why I was in that situation?” He tilted his chin in the direction of the laptop. “Lewis Snart.”

“And that’s why you want to kill him?”

Leonard’s amusement was back, but grim. “Sure.”

He grabbed the cold gun and stepped away from the table. He paused. “Don’t do anything regrettable.” He left the room.

Cisco couldn’t stop a glance at the front door. He saw for a flash the door at Rhodes and another shot of anger went through him that he didn’t go through that one when he had the chance.

Leonard returned with two mugs of coffee, cold gun tucked under his arm to accommodate his lack of a free hand. He put the mugs on the table and the gun followed. He pushed one of the coffees next to the laptop.

He leaned against the table again, fingers wrapped around his own mug.

“Thank you,” Cisco said after a long moment, unsure of what Leonard was expecting.

“Figured you might be up for a while. I’d prefer if we could find Lewis Snart as soon as possible.”

 Cisco nodded, attention back on the computer. He really had no choice but to continue looking as ineffectually as possible.

“Did you find any arrest records so far? Or any records at all?” Leonard asked.

Cisco stopped with a hand halfway to his coffee. “Actually, no.”

Leonard hummed thoughtfully, eyes on his drink.

Cisco went on with his sham of a search in silence for several minutes.  

And as if the entire universe wanted Cisco dead, it decided to present him Lewis Snart. The state police had him. Or, at least, information on him. Cisco hadn’t expected that. He didn’t even know what the state police did. He’d been counting on someone like the FBI hiding Lewis Snart. Cisco tried not to let his face telegraph his find as he skimmed the file.

The information he’d stumbled upon wasn’t an arrest record, or at least, not one Cisco had seen before. There were named protocols with detailed paragraphs in roundabout yet complicated legal speak, in addition to a large section for listed crimes. Among those were assorted burglary charges and multiple aggravated assaults with various levels of description. Scattered throughout were several other names, but one stuck out particularly: Lisa Snart.

Leonard moved to stand behind Cisco’s shoulder, the motion catching Cisco too off-guard to even change the screen.

“You found him? I’m impressed.” He leaned in closer to study the screen.

Cisco’s mind stopped dead. He couldn’t actually give Leonard his father’s location. And yet he just had. “I don’t know if this is even--”

“How much does a job like this go for?” Leonard asked.

Cisco frowned.

Leonard turned and met his eyes, the teasing from the bar had returned. “What do I owe you?”

Cisco’s heart thudded wildly, the force of it making him sick. He refused to let himself believe Leonard wouldn’t kill him.

Cisco tried to keep his voice even. “I don’t—I just want to walk out of here.”

Leonard studied Cisco, eyes flicking across his face. Leonard was so close; the proximity was distracting, demanding.

There was electricity in the air.

Leonard realized it as soon as Cisco did, standing and grabbing the cold gun from the table, an electronic whine indicating it was on.

Cisco shoved his chair away from the table, not trying to do more than that but unable to stay put feeling trapped.

Mick appeared in the foyer doorway with the heat gun and at the same time Cisco caught a glimpse of a red blur. Barry was scoping out the situation and Cisco figured out immediately what his first move would be.  

“Don’t!” Cisco shouted, making a frantic judgement call. “There’s a secondary part on him somewhere. If the gun is disconnected from it, the gun explodes. Both guns.”

The blur stopped in the corner of the room nearest them, solidifying into Barry, or rather, the Flash. The hero had an exceedingly thin build suitable for a runner, and wore the modified STAR Labs red firefighter suit made of thick red leather, complete with a cowl mask that hid the top half of his face.

Cisco felt Leonard’s focus on him, insistent. Cisco didn’t turn to look, but it didn’t matter; he could hear it anyway. _So you did build the guns_.

“Let him go,” Barry said, voice distorted by his powers.

“You know,” Leonard said, turning his attention back to Barry. “I’m impressed. I’ve seen all those news clips. Heard about all those people you saved. You’re a kid in a suit.”

“That’s all I’m going to need to be to bring you in. You’re lucky you didn’t kill him.”

“Is that so, _Flash_?” Leonard asked, with a tinge of curiosity that sounded mocking. “You’d kill me if I had?”

A shadow of a grimace played on the part of Barry’s face visible below his mask. “I have a private prison where you’d never see the light of day.”

Leonard was silent for a moment. “Do you, now?”

After a beat, he took a step away from Cisco and pulled the gun back to rest up on his shoulder. “Take him.”

Leonard glanced at Mick. Mick’s scowl didn’t change.

Barry didn’t move, clearly anticipating a trap.

“Oh, go on,” Leonard goaded. “I’m not faster than you and you know it.”

“You think you’re going to get away.”

“I will get away. I saw your weakness a while ago.” He shifted to fully face Barry, gun moved to lay at his side, other hand up in a gesture of partial surrender at odds with his words.

Cisco marveled at the lack of distance between him and the machine. He wondered if he could sabotage it before Mick caught on and fried him.

“And what is that?” Barry asked.

“Saving people.”

Leonard pressed down on the trigger of the cold gun and a beam of ice engulfed Cisco’s foot.

The cold was more intense than the pain, or maybe it was the pain.

Cisco had no sooner registered it then he was regaining his bearings in STAR Labs. They had stopped in the center of the main office and Cisco reached desperately for the edge of the large, curved desk for support.

“Cisco!” Caitlin shot out of her chair and ran to him.

“Are you alright?” Barry asked, still holding him up.

Cisco clutched at his thigh, the only part of his leg warm enough to feel the pain lancing up from his foot. “Caitlin can handle it. Don’t worry about me. Get Snart.”

 After a hesitant look to both Caitlin and Dr. Wells, who had just come into the room in his wheelchair, Barry sped off again.

As Cisco was helped to the small side room that was their infirmary, he couldn’t stop from picturing the file left up on Mick’s laptop.


	4. Chapter Four

 

 

 

“This is frostbite,” Caitlin noted sternly as she examined Cisco’s skin.

He sat on the infirmary bed, shoe and sock off and pants leg cut open. The main extent of the damage was to his foot. The skin red and swollen, with blisters.

Despite that Caitlin must have been called out of bed after only a few hours, she was fully dressed beneath her lab coat in her typical no-nonsense business style; pencil skirt, button up shirt, and heels, with her brown hair tied up in a practical ponytail.

“What happened?” she asked. “Barry had an injury like this.”

Cisco’s stomach plummeted. “How bad was it?”

“What’s going on, Barry?” Dr. Wells asked from the other room, sitting in front of the curved desk, watching the feedback from Barry’s suit on the several monitors scattered around the office.

Dr. Wells, too, was fully dressed, slightly more casual than Caitlin, as per usual. Though, Cisco couldn’t be certain he had even been sleeping. Dr. Wells’ slightly more messed up hair was the only indication it wasn’t normal business hours.

“Everything is on fire,” Barry’s voice answered through one of several speakers.

“What is ‘everything?’” Dr. Wells asked, tone measured as always.

“The house Cisco was in, and two more. Trees. Lawns.”

“Don’t try and handle that all yourself, Barry,” Dr. Wells admonished gently. “Call the fire department, or we can. Get any people in the burning buildings to safety. Then see if you can find Snart’s trail. This is all an attempt to distract you.”

“Got it.” There was a faint pop that indicated Barry turned off his earpiece.

“I can get to work rewarming your skin, but the effects might last for a while,” Caitlin said apologetically, taking Cisco’s attention away from the other room. “Your skin is probably going to peel later on.”

Cisco nodded.

It turned out rewarming frostbitten skin hurt. Cisco took it and it felt like penance.

By the time it was over, Barry had returned. Barry tore off his cowl and let it fall to the ground where he stood by the infirmary doorway.

“Snart is long gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Cisco said, but it barely came out louder than a whisper.

Barry frowned sharply. “This isn’t your fault.”

Dr. Wells stopped next to Barry and put his elbow on the arm rest of his wheelchair, chin in his hand with his finger over his mouth in the way he did when he was suppressing some sort of emotion.  

Cisco had no doubt it was aimed at him.

“You hurt?” Cisco asked Barry. He spotted a black patch on the right side of Barry’s suit, over the ribcage.

“Am _I_ hurt?” Barry demanded. “You were kidnapped! Are you ok?”

“Barry— _please_ ,” Cisco said, and something in his tone must have resonated with Barry because he backed down.

Barry said, “Earlier, I got hit by whatever gun Snart has. It’s like ice and it slowed me down. But Caitlin looked at it and I’m already healing. The suit protected me from a lot of the damage.”

Cisco shut his eyes, dreading having to explain, his tiredness making it worse.

He opened his eyes again. “It slowed you down because it was built to.”

“How could Snart even know what powers Barry has?” Caitlin asked. “We looked into him. Snart didn’t finish high school. Even if he did know about Barry, how could he have built a gun like that?”

“STAR Labs built it,” Dr. Wells said.

“No,” Cisco insisted. “No one else had anything to do with it. I built it. I built it--” he forced himself to continue. “--to stop you, Barry.”

Barry was slow to register what Cisco had said, or slow to let himself react. “What? Why?”

Cisco shifted his legs off the side of the bed and waved off Caitlin’s protest. He didn’t stand, just moved enough to face Barry.

“Speed and cold are opposites. Temperature is measured by how quickly the atoms of something are oscillating. The faster they are, the hotter it is. And when things are cold, they’re slower on an atomic level. When there’s no movement at all, it’s called absolute zero. I designed a compact cryo-engine to achieve absolute zero. To be able to stop you.” He was already breathless but went on, sitting forward even more. “This was two months ago when we first learned you had powers. You turned out to be a hero, but what if you had turned out to be like those other metas who got powers and took it out on the city? Or what if—what if you had been angry at Dr. Wells for what happened and decided to take it out on him? I had no way of knowing and—and seeing you what you could do, I knew we had no way of fighting against you.”

After a long moment, Barry nodded once. He said, slowly, “I think it’s easy for me to forget that we haven’t known each other very long. Especially because I’ve always looked up to Dr. Wells. Read all his books, kept up with his inventions. I felt like I knew him. And I trusted you guys because you worked with him. But up until the accelerator explosion, none of you knew I existed. I get why you made the guns. And I’m not mad about it—if that’s what you were worried about.” 

Cisco looked to Dr. Wells, waiting for him to speak up, to correct Barry’s reaction, to get Barry to see why he had been so angry when he found out Cisco had made the guns. But he didn’t. He hadn’t even moved.   

Barry went on, “I am mad someone has the guns and used them against us. Especially you. I’m mad you got hurt because someone wanted to get to me.”

“Does Snart know Barry comes to STAR Labs?” Dr. Wells asked.

“He said he had a hunch and I think that’s why he targeted me. But I lied and told him we had nothing to do with the Flash.” Leonard’s face when he realized Cisco had actually built the guns went through Cisco’s mind. He added, “I’m not entirely sure what he knows.”

Dr. Wells said, “We need to work on security immediately.”

“About keeping the guns after we started working together--” Barry started.

Cisco wanted to say _I forgot about them_ or _I didn’t think about it_ , but that would have been a lie. The guns lying secret, locked up in a back room, had crossed his mind frequently and he made the conscious choice each time to keep them.

“I don’t want to use them, or anything like them,” Barry said. “That’s not what I’m about. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“I know,” Cisco was quick to assure him. “That’s not what—I didn’t keep them because I planned for anyone to use them.”

Barry nodded again, this time more decisively. He asked, “What’s with the fire gun?”

“It was easier to build than a cold gun, so I started with it as a sort of prototype. Plus, it can combat the cold gun. Which doesn’t help us now since Snart has both.”

Caitlin spoke up. “For the gun reaching absolute zero, your foot is doing remarkably well. Barry’s injury was much worse.”

Cisco gnawed the inside of his cheek, eyes down. Hearing about Barry’s injury confirmed what Cisco already knew; Leonard didn’t have the gun set very high when he shot Cisco. What that meant—if it meant anything—Cisco wasn’t going to dwell on.

“There’s something else,” Cisco said, bracing himself yet again to deliver bad news. He hesitated, instead dodging the point a bit. “Did you guys find Lewis Snart?”

Barry shook his head. “We focused on finding you. I assumed even if we did what Leonard wanted, he wouldn’t hold up his side of the deal. We looked into Leonard enough to know Lewis is his father, and not a great guy, but we don’t know where he is.”

“I found him,” Cisco forced out tersely.   

“Leonard made you do that?” Barry asked.

Dr. Wells moved his chair even further forward, asking, “Does Leonard know where Lewis Snart is?”

Cisco sent silent gratitude to Dr. Wells for letting him avoid answering Barry.

“I’m pretty sure,” Cisco admitted. “And here’s the thing—Leonard is trying to kill his father. That’s why he’s after him.”

Caitlin scowled and Barry went as far as looking repulsed.

Dr. Wells nodded slowly, understanding. “Ah. Then Barry needs to tell Detective West and hope his higher-ups will listen and make appropriate moves to protect Lewis Snart.”

Barry grabbed his cowl off the ground.

Dr. Wells was quick to stop him with, “Not before Caitlin has made sure you haven’t aggravated your injury. Even with that break, you’ll get to Detective West faster than a normal person.”

“Thank you,” Caitlin responded, looking pointedly at Barry.

Dr. Wells went on, “And then, we work to track down Leonard Snart. He has a history of theft, and probably has committed far more heists than he’s been connected to. I doubt he’ll stop that, even if he is looking for a way to get to his father.”

Cisco stared at the blackened part of Barry’s suit, swearing silently to disassemble the cold gun and destroy the pieces as soon as they got it back.

 

Weeks passed and Christmas approached with little news about the whereabouts or safety of Lewis Snart. Apparently interdepartmental cooperation was not a law enforcement strong suit. The STAR Labs schedule was back to stopping routine small crimes, and the occasional meta, with no leads on Leonard Snart, Mick Rory, or either of the stolen guns.

The next big case STAR Labs took on was one brought to them by Barry. His day job as a forensics investigator led him to cover an attempted break-in at STAR Labs’ rival, Mercury Labs. Founder Dr. Tina McGee insisted on secrecy and limited police interference, so no one outside of the lab knew what the thief had been after. According to Barry, by the way the employees talked, whatever the target had been, it was something groundbreaking.

Cisco tensed up at hearing about a break-in at a laboratory, mind immediately thrown back to Leonard Snart. As much as he wanted to apprehend Leonard, he was also terrified of the thought of it.

But Barry was panicky by the time he finished recapping the case and Cisco realized this was something else entirely. Barry explained what witnesses at Mercury Labs had seen of the alleged perpetrator of the theft. It was another speedster, one in yellow.

“Listen to me,” Barry insisted to Dr. Wells. “I know it sounded impossible when I explained it the first time. But a man surrounded by lightning, a man in yellow, killed my mom. This is him.”

Dr. Wells sighed, but subtly, clearly trying to be patient. “You said this happened when you were ten? How could a speedster—or any meta—exist then? Not to take too much credit, but I’m pretty sure my particle accelerator created every meta we’ve encountered.”

“Time travel,” Cisco said from his seat at the curved desk.

“Mr. Ramon,” Dr. Wells was quick to chastise.

“Sorry,” Cisco said, with an apologetic glance at Barry.

“I was eleven,” Barry corrected Dr. Wells. “I don’t know how he could exist before the accelerator, but he did. And now he’s back and I need to catch him to free my dad.”

A heavy silence that was more than a little awkward fell over the office. Cisco and Caitlin shared a glance.

Caitlin cleared her throat softly and said, “Barry, I’m not sure how possible that would be.”

“Why not?” Barry demanded.

Caitlin shifted in her chair. “Well, we’d have to prove he did it, or at least provide enough evidence that your dad’s conviction is thrown into doubt. But more than that, we keep the metas in the pipeline for a reason. The police don’t even have confirmation they exist. They have no way to hold a meta. And to free your dad, they’d have to find a way to charge and sentence a meta, too.”

“It’s murder! Charge him the way you’d charge anyone else!” Barry yelled. “I saw him do it and I’m not going to let him get away with it! With ruining my dad’s life! With killing--” He broke off, face crumpled.

He tore his hands through his hair and turned and walked a few feet away from the rest of the group, breathing ragged.

Dr. Wells put his glasses back on, a motion Cisco noticed he did when he had come to a conclusion.

“Regardless of whether or not we can take legal action, we can still find the man in yellow,” Dr. Wells said. “We can see if he even is the one who killed your mother.”

Barry looked at Dr. Wells with desperation. “Where do we start?”

Dr. Wells answered easily, “With Mercury Labs.”

“Dr. McGee won’t tell anyone on the force, not even Captain Singh, what the target of the break-in was,” Barry reminded him.

“I know what it was,” Dr. Wells said.

“Have you been spying on Mercury Labs?” Cisco accused with more surprise than anything.

“Now, Cisco,” Dr. Wells said with a devious smile. “I would never.”

Cisco’s stomach caught with a sort of giddiness, and he smiled back even though Dr. Well’s attention had already moved on.

Dr. Wells explained, “Before the accelerator explosion, I kept up with Mercury Labs’ achievements out of a healthy sense of competition. Don’t get me wrong, Tina and I are friends, but we are also business rivals. I still have connections in Mercury Labs, and I occasionally catch up on their research.”

“And what are they working on now?” Caitlin asked.

“The thing that I believe would catch our yellow friend’s attention is tachyons,” Dr. Wells said.

Cisco looked around to see if anyone else understood what Dr. Wells said. Both Barry and Caitlin had blank expressions.

“What are tachyons?” Barry asked.

“Superluminal particles,” Cisco said.

“Exactly,” Dr. Wells said, gesturing to him, eyes shining with both pride and excitement.

Cisco tried not to beam.

“They’re hypothetical particles that can move faster than the speed of light,” Dr. Wells explained. “If you can harness those, well…” He shrugged, implying the infinite possibilities.

“Faster than light?” Barry asked.

Dr. Wells nodded.

“This could be it, couldn’t it? How the man in yellow is as fast as a speedster? Tachyons.”

“Barry,” Dr. Wells said. “Mercury Labs isn’t anywhere _close_ to finding a way to get tachyons to interact with humans in such a way to create superspeed. They have one prototype and I’m not even entirely sure what its capabilities are.”

“You said--”

“—I said _if_ you can harness tachyons, which Mercury Labs has not.”

“It would explain the man in yellow.”

Dr. Wells took off his glasses again. “What you’re suggesting might not even be possible.”

“Even if it’s not why he’s fast, it’s what the man in yellow was after,” Cisco said.

“Most likely,” Dr. Wells said.

“If we know what he wants, then we know how to lure him to us,” Barry said. “He didn’t get the tachyons the first time, he’ll try again.”

“You want to set a trap?” Cisco asked.

“I do,” Barry said.

Dr. Wells looked pleasantly taken aback. He put his glasses back on. “That’s exactly what I was going to suggest, Barry. Very clever of you.”

“We don’t have any project involving tachyons,” Caitlin pointed out. “We don’t have anything to lure him with.”

“I was thinking of asking Dr. McGee for her prototype,” Dr. Wells said.

Cisco frowned. “And tell her what?”

Dr. Wells tilted his head. “Only what we need to. That we’re trying to catch the person who broke into Mercury Labs.”

“Won’t she want the police involved with that?” Caitlin asked.

“I can assure her I have private security. Which we have, in a way.” Dr. Wells looked at Barry. “Unless, Barry, you do want the police involved in catching the man in yellow.”

Cisco turned to Barry.

“I’m not sure,” Barry said after a long moment. “I mean, Joe never believed me about the man in yellow. I don’t know if he thought my dad was guilty, but he didn’t believe me about what happened, either. I’m not sure he believes me now, even knowing about metas. It’s the same problem—how could a speedster exist fourteen years ago?”

“Even if Joe doesn’t believe the man in yellow killed your mother, he can help us catch him.”

“Can he?” Barry asked, and a tinge of anger colored his voice. “With what? A gun? The only person who can fight the man in yellow is me, and I’m not even sure I can. He’s been a speedster much longer than I have. He’s got to be that much faster.”

“You’ve been training,” Dr. Wells assured him.

Barry shook his head. “I just—I can’t be the reason my dad stays in prison. If I miss this chance to catch the man in yellow, my dad stays locked up because of _me_.”

Dr. Wells frowned. “It wouldn’t be because of you. It was never because of you.”

Barry said nothing.

“Do you want to wait to try to catch the man in yellow?” Dr. Wells asked.

“No,” Barry said, expression set. “Our trap just has to work. We have no other options.”

Dr. Wells watched Barry for a moment. “Alright. Then let’s get started. You and I can talk to Dr. McGee about using her prototype.”

 

And a week and a half later, STAR Labs had the tachyon prototype. It was a four-legged, metal thing that could stand on its own, with hinges and pistons on the legs and an empty circle in the center, small enough to pick up, though deceptively heavy.

Dr. Wells turned the contraption over in his hands. His lips were pressed together in a hard line. “That was not how I planned to accomplish this, Barry.”

“She wasn’t going to give us the prototype. We didn’t have any other option.”

“What happened?” Caitlin asked. She was leaning against the edge of the desk nearest Dr. Wells, watching him examine the prototype.

Dr. Wells didn’t respond, eyes still on the machine.

Cisco looked to Barry, hoping he hadn’t also broken into Mercury Labs.

“I told Dr. McGee that examining the crime scene gave me a chance to get a good look around Mercury Labs and plenty of scientific publications would love to know what I saw.”

“You _blackmailed_ her?” Cisco demanded.

“Dr. McGee said I reminded her of Dr. Wells,” Barry said, and Cisco couldn’t decipher his tone.

“Some friend you are,” Caitlin remarked to Dr. Wells with a suitably matronly scowl.

“I wanted Dr. McGee to be comfortable with the risks of allowing us to use the prototype as a lure,” Dr. Wells said. “In case it goes wrong and we don’t have a prototype to hand back.”

“She refused to cooperate with us.”

“It could have been done differently. How close are we with the forcefield?” Dr. Wells asked, effectively ending the discussion over Barry’s actions.

The prototype opened in his lap, the legs moving so the shape of the thing changed from table-esque to a slightly buckled X.

Cisco figured he should have been excited to see a tachyon prototype in real life, but the image of an _Alien_ facehugger popped into his head when he looked at the open shape. Maybe the prototype was only ominous to him because he was pretty sure they could be thrown in jail for touching it.

“And after we set the trap up?” Barry asked. “We let the man in yellow know we have tachyons?”

“How?” Dr. Wells asked, closing the prototype again. “No, we wait. If the man in yellow could find out Mercury Labs had tachyons, he has a way to find out we have them. We’ll all have alerts set up. We won’t miss it when it happens.”

By the end of the day, the trap was set. The prototype stood on a pedestal in a raised circle of floor in a room on the far end of STAR Labs. Four thin metal pillars supported a metal circle that ran the length of the edge of the raised floor, eight feet up. It was this metal frame that would deploy the forcefield.

In the STAR Labs main office, within easy grabbing distance of everyone, was a newly invented contraption. It was a long, handheld piece of machinery that fired another, smaller piece of machinery that would latch on to a meta’s ankle—or anything it could circle around—and immobilize them with an electric current. Though the shape evoked one, it wasn’t a gun, exactly, which was the only reason Cisco was alright with creating what he had dubbed the B.O.OT. He would have preferred a method of power dampening that was a bit more sophisticated than electricity, but they seemed to be working with a timetable of “as quickly as possible.”

That night, everyone found a reason to linger in STAR Labs longer than necessary, just in case the plan worked too efficiently and the man in yellow showed up. But eventually, the air of anticipation faded and the group packed up to leave.

Cisco turned off the screen with the camera feeds. He had just been watching the one camera anyway, despite the fact there was no need. The tachyon trap was linked to the STAR Labs computers, which were linked to all of their phones, and that set up ensured the forcefield going off would alert the entire team immediately.

Grabbing his backpack, Cisco realized it was just him and Barry in the lab. Barry sat at the other end of the main curved desk; just sitting. If there was one thing Cisco had never seen Barry do, it was sit still. Cisco would have described Barry as nearly frenetic, and he had a feeling Barry had been like that even before the accelerator explosion.  

Cisco felt the need to say something but wasn’t entirely sure what, so he went with, “We’ll catch him, you know. The trap will work.”

Barry nodded. “That’s what Caitlin keeps saying, too.”

“Maybe Caitlin’s right,” Cisco said.

Caitlin had been the first to go that night, ever the one to insist on a healthy amount of sleep, especially during times of high stress. Cisco had the suspicion Caitlin wasn’t as pulled-together as she’d like to let on, but he wasn’t going to challenge her. He knew that whatever stopped her from living the doctor-perfect lifestyle wasn’t lack of discipline but instead whatever trauma she kept under the layer of ice that coated her personality.  

Even so, it didn’t help him feel any less guilty that he never got enough sleep and his dinner was more often than not ramen and Twizzlers.

“I just want this to be over with,” Barry said.

Cisco knew he was out of his depth in regard to giving advice about closure. He slept at STAR Labs the first couple weeks after his kidnapping and still had a toothbrush and toothpaste in his bag in case he didn’t want to go home. He was still waiting for Leonard to decide he was a liability after all and find him and kill him. The lab was safer than Cisco’s apartment, especially now that Dr Wells had worked on improving security.

“This waiting is the worst of it, I’m sure,” Cisco said.

“I’ve been trying to find him for fourteen years. And somehow it’s so much harder knowing he’s in the city. If I could just--” he stopped.

“You put a lot of pressure on yourself, Barry. Even before the powers.”

“How can I just give up on freeing my dad?”

“Do you like being a forensic tech?”

“It’s all I ever wanted to do.”

“In order to try to get your dad out of prison,” Cisco said, and Barry didn’t argue. They’d spoken enough before for Cisco to know he was right. “What do you like besides that? Like, if you could have any other job?”

Barry thought for a moment before admitting, softly, “I don’t know.”

After a long silence, Barry said, “My dad said the man in yellow is still taking from me because I’m so focused on finding him. He’s taking my life, too.”

“Your dad seems like he really cares about you,” Cisco said.

“He doesn’t deserve to be in prison for the rest of his life,” Barry said, voice wavering.

“He doesn’t,” Cisco agreed. “And he won’t be. We’ll catch the man in yellow and your dad will be free and you can do whatever you want with your life. You don’t even need a job. You can just be the Flash, if that’s what you want.”

Barry nodded, lost in thought. “Yeah,” he said absently.

On the walk home, Cisco wondered if Leonard Snart was his man in yellow. Someone who would keep taking and taking as long as they were out there.

Cisco closed his apartment door behind him and took off his shoes. He rubbed the foot that had been frostbitten. Caitlin had assured him it healed well, but the cold weather still made it ache.

 


	5. Chapter Five

 

 

Cisco woke up to his cell phone going off. He rolled over and grabbed for it in the dark.

“Hello?”

“Something happened to Dr. Wells.”

It was Caitlin on the other end. Cisco jolted upright.

“What—is he ok?” Cisco’s brain rushed to wake up enough to comprehend what was going on.

“I think so. But there was a break-in. Barry heard from Joe. They’re both over there now. I’m already out the door. I can be at your place in ten minutes to pick you up.”

“Yeah--” Cisco dragged a hand through his hair. “I’ll be ready.”

Caitlin hung up. Perfunctory as always.

Cisco looked at his phone and realized he had missed calls and texts from both Barry and Caitlin going back an hour.

Annoyed with himself, Cisco pulled himself out of bed and into whatever clothes he had within arm’s reach. He went into the bathroom and hastily swished around some mouthwash. He was outside his apartment building and waiting by the time Caitlin pulled up in her sedan.

Cisco got in the passenger seat and handed Caitlin an off-brand sports drink.

“I’m trying to quit soda,” Cisco explained. It wasn’t working; hence, he had sports drinks to spare.

“Good for you,” Caitlin said as she started driving again. She sounded like she meant it.

“A break-in?” Cisco asked after a moment. At the same time, he wished he had remembered to throw on more deodorant.

“That’s what it sounded like when Barry talked to me. He’s there as an investigator right now.”

“The cops are there?”

“Yeah, Joe got a call about it.”

“Dr. Wells doesn’t seem like the call the cops type.”

“I don’t think it was him. I think he has a security system.”

“He bought a security system?” Cisco asked, opening his drink. For some reason, Cisco had assumed Dr. Wells would develop most major electronics in his life.

Caitlin shrugged. “Judging by the address, it’s a fancy house. It probably came with a system.”

Cisco looked at the address on the GPS on Caitlin’s phone, which was on a stand suctioned to the windshield. He’d never heard of the street, but judging by the distance, it was in a nicer part of the city. Fortunately, not the same district as the house Leonard Snart had taken Cisco to, he realized with relief. He did not want to see those gravel driveways or the pretentiously placed trees ever again.

Caitlin and Cisco were quiet for the rest of the drive, the only noise in the car was the GPS giving directions.

After nearly twenty minutes, they pulled up behind four police cars in the driveway of a sprawling, ultramodern house. The blue and red police lights caught on the glass expanses of the gray and white house. Cisco didn’t know what he had expected Dr. Wells’ house to look like, but it was not this.

Caitlin and Cisco left the car and walked up the driveway to a broad stone porch that was level with the lawn. The porch had no railing and was covered by a flat, paneled glass roof held up by wide, square, white concrete pillars. The roof changed to a more traditional peaked shape as it led up to the wooden front doors.

The officers on the porch didn’t stop Caitlin and Cisco on their way up to the house, though Cisco had expected them to. Caitlin rang the bell and the double doors opened smoothly inward on their own.  

The inside of the house was as open as the preceding porch, with the same white pillars. What few walls there were, leading to other parts of the house, were made of decorated glass. There were no stairs that Cisco could see, and the entire floor was squares of sleek black stone with no breaks or segments.

They navigated through the house, past more officers, and past décor so artistically shallow as to be anemic. Canvases that mimicked minimalistic modern art, empty vases that were only for display, tiny statues that were clearly chosen to cater to the room design rather than for any merit of their own. Cisco felt ill-at-ease in the place. He would have never expected this type of overly large house or the cold, impersonal décor from Dr. Wells and Cisco felt irritation because of it.

Cisco caught sight of Joe and Dr. Wells before catching sight of the reason for the call. Even just approaching, Cisco could see the extent of the damage. In what could have been a living room—as much as there was any delineation between rooms in this layout—an enormous amount of glass flooded the floor and covered the few furnishings. This segment of roof had been built like a larger version of the porch roof, and the entirety of it was destroyed, leaving just jagged-edged panes.

One side of the space was entirely made of a long rectangular freestanding fireplace; more like fire inside a thin glass wall than a traditional fireplace. And it was on. As far as Cisco could see, the fireplace wasn’t damaged. Alongside the fireplace was what looked like a functionally useless backless sofa. Two stiff armchairs were positioned opposite, too far across the room to be used as a place to hold a conversation. The only other thing in the room was an empty pedestal. Cisco assumed it used to hold yet another vase, which had fallen victim to the raining glass.   

Cisco noticed Barry kneeling in the center of wreckage, reassembling a roof pane. He wore his CSI uniform of a beige full body zip up suit that Cisco had previously been warned to never call a onesie, latex gloves, and booties over his shoes.

Dr. Wells and Joe were at the edge of the living room and Cisco and Caitlin headed for them. Dr. Wells looked fine, all things considered. He was engaged in conversation with Joe, and seemed vaguely irritated, but Cisco had expected Dr. Wells to be a bit more alarmed, even if he hadn’t been injured. Which, fortunately, it seemed like he hadn’t been.

The more Cisco looked at the older man, with his black-rimmed glass and minimalistic outfits, maybe the house fit better than Cisco realized. Dr. Wells had been wealthy before the accelerator malfunction. There was no reason he would be immune to the stereotypical trappings of that wealth.

“Joe,” Dr. Wells said, gentle but exasperated. “I told you—this is unnecessary.”

“Someone attacked you.”

“This is hardly an attack,” Dr. Wells argued. “It’s most likely a prank.”

“A prank?” Joe repeated, incredulous.

Dr. Wells’ bland smile didn’t change. “A prank,” he insisted.

Cisco had long since realized this was not a break-in, but he was also not buying the theory Dr. Wells was putting forward.

Cisco and Caitlin stopped next to Dr. Wells.

“Mr. Ramon. Dr. Snow.” His clipped, professional tone was more than enough to indicate to everyone that he did not want them there.

“I told Barry to call them,” Joe said.

“There is no investigation here,” Dr. Wells insisted. “I am asking you and your officers to leave.”

“Can we take the security camera footage to review?” Joe asked.

“You may not,” Dr. Wells said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to make a hotel reservation.”

He moved away from the group. After exchanging a glance with the other two, Cisco followed Dr. Wells.

“Are you ok?” Cisco asked Dr. Wells quietly when he’d caught up to him in the kitchen.

The kitchen was clean in a way that spoke of disuse, though all the appliances were clearly top of the line.

Dr. Wells looked up at him, expression soft. “I’m fine. Genuinely. Though, I do appreciate your concern.” After a beat, he continued, “Are you ok?”

“I’m good,” Cisco said.

“Cisco--” It was the beginning of chastisement.

“Really. I promise. And if I feel like I’m not, I’ll talk to you or Caitlin or Barry.”

There was another beat. “Ok.” Dr. Wells looked around, eyes going from the shattered glass to the officers to Barry. “This had to get to you, the idea that we’re not safe in our own home. You’ll have to forgive me for being protective.”

“It’s a concern I have,” Cisco admitted. He realized that his anxiety might be the root of his sudden hostility towards Dr. Well’s interior design. “But it goes both ways. You got attacked and we want to find who did it. But you’re not letting the police investigate. Why not?”

“I’m not letting the police investigate,” Dr. Wells said, voice getting rough the way it did whenever he spoke softly, “because I already know who did this.”

The breathy raspy-ness of Dr. Wells’ voice and the intimate tone, like he was sharing a secret, was incredibly distracting and Cisco had to force himself to focus on the actual words being said.

“Who?” Cisco asked.

“Hartley Rathaway.”

Cisco felt an electric shock at the name. Hartley Rathaway was a fellow STAR Labs engineer who had walked out right before the accelerator was scheduled to turn on and who no one had heard from since.   

Cisco looked around again at the damage. This didn’t seem like the Hartley he knew; the stuck-up young man desperately struggling to look superior to everyone else. He had been constantly annoyed, but not the destruction of property type. Or worse, the violent attack type. Because, in the back of Cisco’s mind, there was the thought that this was just the first attempt at getting to Dr. Wells.

“How do you know it was him?” Cisco asked.

Dr. Wells’ eyebrows raised in a matter-of-fact expression. “He told me. He called me right before this happened.”

“What did he say?”

“You know, typical villainous stuff. I’ll pay. Things like that,” Dr. Wells said.

He was far less bothered than Cisco thought he should be.

“Time to pay the piper,” Dr. Wells added. “That’s what he said.”

Cisco frowned. “Like the Pied Piper?”

“Sounds like it.”

A camera flash went off in the living room.

Dr. Wells turned quickly. “Are they still collecting evidence?” he demanded.

He looked back at Cisco. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said and headed off towards Joe.

Cisco was left alone in the kitchen, feeling like the entire house spun around him. Hartley Rathaway was back and had targeted Dr. Wells. Not only targeted him, but had targeted him with some kind of weapon. It would have taken far more than rocks or a baseball bat to shatter the glass on the roof like it had been.   

 

They got back to STAR Labs and Cisco started to remember how it had been with Hartley occupying it. Before the accelerator explosion, the lab had been full of people, all of them on different projects. Next to what Cisco knew as the main office was a side office that functioned like a breakroom, which Cisco now recalled sharply used to have a chess board on the table.

Dr. Wells and Hartley would play in any free moment, switching languages as they one-upped each other’s strategies. Cisco understood chess just fine, and sometimes even enjoyed playing, but never felt anything besides like rolling his eyes at those particular matches. In his opinion, they were a show as much as anything. The show, from Hartley’s side, anyway, said, ‘look how much better I get along with Dr. Wells than any of you do.’

Cisco wandered into the breakroom, wondering what he was expecting to feel.

He remembered Hartley sitting alone at the far end of the table, staring at the chess board, looking visibly shaken. Which, on Hartley, was as alarming to see as crying.

Hartley wore his typical stuffy ensemble of a button up and tie under a sweater. He never even pushed up the sleeves. His light brown hair was held rigidly in place with product as always. Basically, Hartley dressed as the epitome of a smarmy, rich, white kid, but in Cisco’s opinion, his face held too much personality for the outfit to be convincing. It was a costume and now Cisco saw what was beneath it.  

Hartley had just come out as gay to his family, who had responded with immediate rejection. Caitlin had filled Cisco in earlier that morning, summing it up with, “Old money, old values.” She didn’t condone it, Cisco knew. It was her way of explaining, not realizing how lackluster of an explanation that was.

“Hartley,” Cisco had said, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake by intruding on a personal moment.

“Leave,” Hartley said. He put his glasses back on; unflattering, thick-framed roundish ones.

“I’m not here to be a dick,” Cisco said. “I’m here to help.”

“I have never _once_ needed your help and this isn’t any different.”

No one on the STAR Labs team besides Dr. Wells got along with Hartley, not that Hartley made himself easy to get along with. But Cisco knew that eventually he would also have to test if his family’s love was conditional. In fact, he might have been the only one on the accelerator team who could relate to Hartley in that way. So Cisco couldn’t bring himself to walk away. He tried again.

“I just wanted to--”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Are you sure?” Cisco said, and his heart jumped into his throat. If Hartley just asked, Cisco could tell him. Come out to someone in real life for the first time.

But Hartley looked at him with disgust. “You’re the problem, you know.”

“How?” Cisco demanded; all anxiety instantly stamped out by anger.

“You being here.”

“I didn’t replace you. You do realize that, right? Dr. Wells just needed a bigger team.”

Hartley stood quickly, about to retort. He cut himself off with a guilty look outside the glass wall that led into the lab, making sure no one had witnessed what was clearly going to be an outburst.  

Cisco saw the vulnerability in Hartley’s face and remembered that he had just been disowned. Cisco hated himself for forgetting, for letting himself get caught up again in their feud.

“Listen,” Cisco said. “I just wanted to say it’s unfair. And I'm sorry. And if there’s a way to help, I will.”

Hartley stared at Cisco for a long time before he spoke again. “You know what would help?”

“What?” Cisco asked.

“If I never had to see you again.”

Cisco held his frustration back, though he wanted nothing more at that moment than to defend himself. “Alright,” he said, tone clipped. “Ok.” He left the room.

And they had went on every day after that, up to the day Hartley left, like that conversation never happened.

“Cisco!” Dr. Wells called as he entered the main office. “Care to join us?”

Cisco noticed Barry and Caitlin were already there. Caitlin was seated, expression taut. Barry bounced on his heels near the back wall, never too tired to be moving.

Cisco left the breakroom and found a seat in the office.

Dr. Wells explained to the others what he had explained to Cisco before.

“Pay the piper?” Caitlin repeated.

“None of you ever mentioned Hartley before,” Barry accused.

“We never really needed to,” Caitlin said. “And we never really wanted to, either. Hartley wasn’t very pleasant to be around. He had a challenging personality.”

“There are eras, here, Barry,” Dr. Wells said. “Hartley seemed firmly in the past. Separated from the new era, the new team.” He looked around pointedly at them all.

“Well, now he’s back,” Barry said. “What does he want?”

“Whatever ‘pay the piper’ means, it’s not credit,” Cisco said. “Honestly, he dodged a bullet leaving when he did. He’s not associated with the accelerator disaster.”

Cisco thought he crossed a line, but he saw a small, rueful but amused smile on Dr. Well’s face.

“I don’t know what he wants,” Dr. Wells admitted.

“Why did he leave?” Barry asked.

The corners of Dr. Wells’ mouth turned down in an expression like a shrug. “We don’t know. He just walked out and didn’t return. But that wasn’t too unusual for someone like Hartley. I don’t think he was the type to feel he owed anyone an explanation.”

“The problem is,” Cisco said. “Whatever he wants, he has a way to get it. He had to have some kind of weapon to destroy your house like he did.”

Dr. Wells held Cisco’s gaze for a moment. “Very good, Cisco. I think he’s created some kind of device that weaponizes sound waves.”

“That makes sense,” Barry chipped in. “I noticed the glass had no point of impact. It was like it all just suddenly shattered.”

“Resonance,” Dr. Wells said. “If you match the resonant frequency of something you can cause it to shatter. I’m concerned he’s going to try shattering more than glass.”

“If your alarm system hadn’t called the police, when were you going to tell us about this?” Cisco asked, surprising himself again with his boldness. Maybe it he lost some sense of caution because he was so tired.

Caitlin raised her eyebrows at Dr. Wells.

“Today,” Dr. Wells assured them calmly. “I just didn’t need you there immediately.” He gave an unamused smile. “And I most certainly didn’t need the police in my house.”

Cisco looked Dr. Wells over and wondered why he thought he would have been fine taking on Hartley. As soon as he realized a weapon was involved, Dr. Wells should have called Barry.  

“Look, we’ll stop him,” Barry said. “I won’t let him hurt you—any of you.”

“Thank you, Barry,” Dr. Wells said. “For now, we all get some rest. We’ll meet back up here later today and decide our next move.”

On Cisco’s walk home—he declined Caitlin’s offer to drive, letting her instead get home quicker—his exhaustion truly began to hit him. He thought again of Hartley and couldn’t push the thoughts aside. Cisco had known, everyone had known, that Hartley didn’t have friends outside of work. Or rather, outside of Dr. Wells, if that could have even been called a friendship. Cisco wondered, not for the first time, what could have made Hartley leave STAR Labs and cut off the only person he had.

And now Hartley was targeting that person. Cisco realized, however, that might not make Dr. Wells the only one in danger. If Cisco remembered the fairy tale right, the Pied Piper cleared up a town’s rat infestation but the town reneged on payment, so the Piper took the town’s children as revenge and killed them. If Hartley painted himself as the Piper, and Dr. Wells as the town that had refused to pay, then that left only one role for Cisco, Caitlin, and Barry.


End file.
